Page 103 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

Lady Westcroft’s eyes widened, and she had a look of incredulity on her face. ‘Did he explain the headaches?’

Simon shifted uncomfortably. ‘He said they were likely caused by the huge amount of stress I was under, imagining myself dying.’ For some reason it felt uncomfortable to admit it, that he had brought the headaches on himself. ‘He told me it was self-perpetuating. The first time I got a headache I thought it must be the start of the same condition they had died from. The stress of that thought meant I woke every day with a headache that would not relent.’

‘It is easy to see how that could happen,’ Lady Westcroft said. Now she had lost her frostiness towards him, she seemed more like the reasonable young woman he had proposed to. He watched her as she sipped her coffee. He was ashamed to admit he had not thought much about her this past year. His guilt had been over leaving his mother and sister-in-law behind, along with his young nieces. They had been the reason he had returned, not the wife he had almost forgotten about.

It was only a year ago he had left, a little less, yet he realised Lady Westcroft had changed. Not physically, at least not at first glance, but there was something about her manner, a poise and confidence that she hadn’t had before. When they had married she had seemed overwhelmed by the wealth and status of the family she was marrying into, yet now she sat in this dining room confident in her role as mistress of the house. He even thought he’d seen her eyeing his chair at the head of the table when she’d entered.

‘I am truly glad you are not dying, Lord Westcroft,’ she said softly.

‘Thank you. So am I.’ He paused, deciding to be entirely candid with her. ‘The doctor in Italy said there was a good possibility I had the same condition as my father and brother, that he could not guarantee I would not be plagued by the headaches that were the harbinger of a sudden death, but he urged me to resume my life and said it might happen in a year or in forty years.’

‘So here you are,’ Lady Westcroft said.

‘Here I am.’

She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and put down her cup of coffee. Her breakfast lay barely touched on her plate.

‘I am sure you are still finalising your plans, my Lord,’ she said, standing and dropping into a formal little curtsy. ‘When you have decided what you will be doing and where you will be staying, please let me know. Now I must leave you. I have an engagement I forgot about.’

Before he had a chance to answer, she turned and hurried out the room. He had the sense she was escaping him, running away from having to interact with him anymore. Leaning back in his chair he laced his fingers together in front of his chest. At least he had begun the conversation between them. Throughout his voyage home he had avoided thinking too much of his accidental wife. In his mind she was living quietly in one of his properties in Northumberland, taking long country walks and occupying herself with needlework or watercolours. He’d thought he would have time before he told her the circumstances of their marriage had changed, that she was no longer wife to an absent husband. He’d imagined arranging a time to meet as they discussed how their lives would continue now he was home. With a groan he remembered instead how he had climbed into bed with her after a year of no contact whatsoever. Never would he be able to rid himself of the terrified look on her face or the awful scream as she saw him in the darkness.

He sighed. It was a lot for her to take in, yet all he wanted was to reassure her. In the main her life need not change. There was no requirement for them to live as husband and wife, even if he were in the country. She could stay at one property, he another. Lady Westcroft was a sensible woman; he may have only known her for a short time, but he had been able to tell that from their acquaintance before their marriage. She was sensible, and he was sure with a little time she would see their arrangement could continue without too much disruption.

For a second he thought back to the kiss they had shared in the garden of Lady Salisbury’s party on Midsummer’s Eve the year before. It had been a magical moment, and for a few minutes he had allowed himself to imagine a different future.

Quickly he shook his head. It wasn’t to be. He had decided long ago he was never going to marry or have children. He had broken his first vow when his hand had been forced after meeting the now Lady Westcroft that fateful Midsummer’s Eve, but that didn’t mean he had to change his whole life’s philosophy.

Chapter Nine

Alice looked round the room in satisfaction. There was a low hum of chatter and everyone was smiling and seeming to have a good time. The London Ladies’ Benevolent Society had been established long before she had arrived in London, but she had found them a lacklustre group of four elderly women of the upper-middle class who had good intentions but not much idea as to how to implement them. In the last six months, since she had taken the helm of the society, it had gone from strength to strength. They now had regular monthly meetings, the location of which rotated between the homes of the more influential members, and held fundraising activities every couple of months too. Alice was well aware that initially many of the ladies had only agreed to be part of it so they could get the measure of her, the mysterious new countess that no one knew anything about, but she hoped that now they saw the benefits of a well-run society that could help them focus their philanthropic efforts.

She took a sip of tea and tried to focus on what Lady Kennington was saying as she rapped earnestly on the arm of the sofa with her fan.

‘It just is not good enough. These poor orphans are dressed in rags, given gruel to eat and not even taught their letters or numbers, then society acts surprised when they go on to be the next generation of beggars and criminals. There needs to be better provision for them.’

‘There is not endless money, though, Lady Kennington,’ Mrs Taylor said. She was a wealthy widow who donated both her time and money generously. Alice was pleased at how she had chipped away at the hierarchical structure these last few months. She’d wanted all members to feel they had a voice, an opinion, whether they be duchess or doctor’s wife.

‘No, there is not. Yet I wonder whether the conditions the poor orphans find themselves in isn’t at least a little deliberate. There is a large proportion of society who think people should stay within their own social status. We have all seen how the self-made man is snubbed at society events, even when he is the wealthiest in the room.’

‘Do you have a solution, Lady Kennington?’ Alice asked. A few months ago she would have worried that there was an unspoken agenda when there was talk of people staying within their own social class, but she had learned it was best to act oblivious to people’s opinions. If they never saw you react, they soon got bored and started talking about someone else.

‘St Benedict’s Home for Orphaned Children,’ Lady Kennington announced with a triumphant smile. ‘A small orphanage near the slums of St Giles. I think they have beds for twelve girls and twelve boys. At the moment it is in the poorest part of the city, and the children are lucky to reach their fourteenth birthday, when they are thrown back out on the streets.’

‘I think I know the one you mean,’ Alice said, thinking of the dilapidated building that looked as though it would collapse with the slightest gust of wind.

‘We cannot intervene everywhere, but I propose we invest some of our funds there. Make a difference for those twenty-four children and use them as a study to present to Parliament to show the benefits to all society if we look after the poorest amongst us.’

Alice felt a shiver run through her at the idea. More than anything she wanted to make a difference for children. It had been hard coming to terms over the last year with the fact that she would not have children of her own, at least not anytime soon. She had begun to build a relationship with her beautiful nieces, the three children her sister-in-law had gracefully helped her bond with, and she had also recently returned from a short trip to see her own sister and little nephew. She could surround herself with children to love even if she could have none of her own yet, but she also wanted to make a difference to some of the orphaned and destitute children of London. The unwavering support of someone as influential as Lady Kennington would mean projects like St Benedict’s Orphanage were much more likely to become success stories.

She was surprised when the door opened and Lord Westcroft walked into the room. He in turn looked stunned by two dozen women crowded into his drawing room, and Alice saw him stiffen and then glance over his shoulder, but it was too late. He had been spotted.

‘Lord Westcroft,’ Lady Kennington called, beaming at him. ‘You have returned from your travels.’ She turned to Alice and said admonishingly, ‘You should have told us, my dear. This is exciting news.’

No one else noticed the fraction of a second’s hesitation before Lord Westcroft smiled indulgingly and stepped into the room as if he had always planned to spare a few minutes of his time with the ladies. He moved between groups of people smoothly, greeting old acquaintances and bowing to new ones, and Alice watched in wonder as he left each group beaming with pleasure at the small snippet of attention he bestowed upon them. He went round the room before approaching Alice and her little group, greeting Lady Kennington and speaking warmly to Mrs Taylor.

‘This is quite the gathering, Lady Westcroft,’ he said, looking around.

‘Hard to believe six months ago the London Ladies’ Benevolent Society was four elderly women and a small pot of donations,’ Lady Kennington said, patting Alice on the hand. ‘Lady Westcroft has done a marvellous job at getting everyone so interested and invested in the society.’